


Artemus In Over His Head

by imaginationdaydreams



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, Country & Western, Eating Disorders, F/M, Fainting, Falling In Love, First Crush, Fluff, Friendship, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kicking In Door, Living Together, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Orphans, Protective!Artemus, Running Away, Secret Crush, Self-Doubt, Sorry Not Sorry, Spies & Secret Agents, Trains, Waiting, Worried!James, misplaced feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 20:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16025291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationdaydreams/pseuds/imaginationdaydreams
Summary: Artemus takes on the temporary custody of a teenage orphan of outlaws, Emanda. The trouble is, she thinks she is in-love with him. How will he handle her misplaced feelings?Rating is for eating disorder references and a teenager's attraction towards an older man.





	Artemus In Over His Head

“May I go in there with her?” the stranger's eyes gestured toward the eighteen iron bars in-front of me as he asked. I had them counted. Twice.

  
The exhausted sheriff shrugged and shook his head in defeat. “If ‘n you recon' you want to do that... I don’t see a good need to stop ya.”

  
The two brooded in such a way that it gave me the distinct impression they had been arguing on the subject longer than either of them wanted to. The stranger was let into my cell. If only I could pass through that door so easily.

"Don't take all day, you hear?" said the sheriff, not impatiently, but defeatedly.

He locked the cell door behind the stranger and we were left alone, because the sheriff left to presumably go have a nap. I sprawled out on the bed against the wall, mindlessly sucking the blood off my thumbs. Scratching at them until they bled had been a bad habit of mine since I was quite young. It usually happened when I was nervous and this stranger would make anyone nervous. Thick, shiny hair in waves were brushed off his forehead and combed behind his perfect ears. He smiled at me, but I wasn't about to smile back. So, he clasped his hands behind his back and sighed; changing his approach at making an appeal to me.

“So, how long are you in for?” he asked.

  
I kicked at the dirt on the floor, making it cloud the air in plumes. “Just until I escape."

  
He sat down beside me, leaning low, getting to my height before replying, “I see now; that is a pity. I was hoping to come by and see you again sometime.”

  
“I don’t recon I’ll be in here that long,” I said dismissively.

  
The man who had still yet to tell me his name got up and leaned against the black metal bars of the cell with that same irritating attitude. “When is someone coming to ah, bust you out?”

  
I scoffed at his stupidity. “No one is coming. I’m gonna do it myself... What do you care anyhow?”

  
“Oh, no reason in particular," he hummed, kicking at the dirt as he saw me do earlier. People copy body language to get people to subconsciously like them.

  
Then the stranger went to the door, still without even telling me his name, and called for the sheriff to let him out. Oh, how I wished I could do that. The two men left the room and that was about all that happened that day. I spent all that night trying to escape.

  
I had fallen asleep on that same dirty floor. The bench wasn't much comfier. The next morning came and I was awoken by that same fella coming back to my cell.

“No luck, eh?”

I wanted to punch him right in that perfect jaw of his.

  
“Ya, ya. What’s it to you?” I asked for a second time, gathering myself to my feet, brushing the dirt off of my creamy linen shirt.

  
“What if I told you I could help you out of here?” the man asked.

  
“Not so.”

  
The man called for the sheriff again and they nodded subtly to each other. The sheriff opened the cell door. The stranger walked out the door then turned around and called for me.

“Are you coming?” the stranger asked me.

I scrambled to my feet, forgetting to not look eager or thankful, and ran out of the cell. I would have gone straight past him, but he pulled me back to him by my shirt collar.

"Are you sure you know what you are getting into?" the sheriff asked.

The stranger nodded halfheartedly as he signed some wordy looking sheet of paper the sheriff held out for him. I shot the sheriff one last death stare as I was led out of the building. The grip still tight on my shirt collar. The air outside was fresh and full of summer and freedom in that town.

“Well, thanks mister. I’ll be seeing ya.”

  
“Oh, no you don’t. That wasn’t the deal I made with the sheriff. You have to come with me.”

  
“You didn't make no deal with me! I didn’t leave one jail just to go to another! One day more and I would have gotten myself out without yer' help.”

  
He held himself back from correcting my English. “Don’t worry. I’m not out to hurt you. Come on, I want you to meet my associate.”

  
“Associate?”

  
“Ya, a friend of mine.”

  
“How long do I have to be with you?”

  
“I’m getting you out of town so we can find you someplace nice to stay.”

  
“Well thanks a lot,” I deadpanned, "as long as it ain’t with no lawmen.”

  
He couldn't restrain himself any longer. “Isn’t any,” he corrected.

  
Of course, I didn’t realize at the time that he was merely correcting my spoken form.

+

“Who is your friend?” the tall man inquired.  
“Emanda,” the sheepish Gordon replied.  
The former man gave an odd look to the later and then took the effort to peer down at me. Ragged and unkempt of temper as I was, he seemed friendly to my existence. Still, I felt like we were interrupting his work or something. After all, he had been charting things on a map in the library when we walked in. It is basic knowledge of human behaviors that people who have anything to do with other people do not usually spend time in libraries staring at maps.  
“Nice to meet you, Emanda. I’m James; James West,” the tall man bent at his waist to greet me.  
“I’m Rushmore. I mean, that is my last name that is, sir. I have a last name too and, uh-- that is it. Nice to meet you too,” I stumbled over my words as Mr. West gave a small smile to his friend and an awkward silence ensued.  
"You you usually go by Rushmore?" James inquired.  
"It was a very important name to my family. We all went by Rushmore," I explained. Gordon scrambled to explain.  
“It will only be for a while,” he promised.  
“What will only be for a while, Gordon?”  
“Her; I mean that she is going to be with us for a while.”  
“I don’t follow you,” James retorted, as he glanced unruffled at his gold pocket watch.  
“Emanda has been placed in my custody until we can find her a good home,” Gordon blurted out visibly nervous of his friend’s reply.  
“Her parents?”  
Gordon cupped my ears from behind me, “Dead, with nasty reputations in this town, I might add. No one here will take her here, so I told the sheriff we would take her to Louiseville with us where she could get a fresh start.”  
I tried to pretend I wasn’t listening.  
“We can’t have a girl like that around!” James nearly shouted as Gordon calmed him down, still holding my ears closed as best he could.  
“Don’t worry about it. I will take care of it.”  
Something inside me felt good when he said that.  
James gave me a skeptical look, “Alright, Arty. You just make sure you keep track of her and keep her out of my way. I’m going to go to the saloon.”  
“Wait for me, I’ll come with you.”  
“No you won’t. You’ve got the girl to take care of.”  
Gordon looked down at me and searched my form over with his eyes as James strode out the library door.  
When he had finally left Arty took me by the hand and took us back to his train car.  
“Sorry I’m in the way, Mr. Gordon,” it sounded sadder than I meant it to.  
“No trouble at all and please --- call me Arty,” he requested as he got out some bread from one of the wooden drawers.  
“Sure thing.”  
“How old are you anyways?” inquired the man with eyes filled to the brim with genuine curiosity.  
I liked how he spoke to me like I was a real person, an adult that is.  
"I'm 14."  
“Land sakes! You are practically a woman.” he let out with a laugh and a mischievous smile.  
“You really think so?” I nearly tripped on my own feet.  
His eyes were so beautiful and brown. They were so big and warm and he was just about the friendliest person I had ever met. And--  
“Yes, I really think so,” Gordon replied in an amused voice.  
Soon, I was asleep on the couch. Him singing to me was the last sweet thing I remember.  
+  
Later that night there was a knock on the door. James was sitting in the chair across the room reading, as usual, a book on government or some such thing. Gordon bolted out of the other room looking suspiciously well dressed to answer it before James could even put the book down. He opened it with a bow, as he introduced a beautiful lady into the room. She was stunning. I instantly disliked her.  
“Angeline! So good to see you again.” James got up from his chair and sat the book face down on the table.  
“The pleasure is all mine,” spoke the over-dressed woman.  
“Ang', this is young Emanda, the girl I was telling you about over the phone,” Gordon introduced us, suddenly remembering my existence.  
“Charming.” She studied me, which only caused me to become more self-conscious of my clothing as compared to hers. “We better get going, Darling,” she said, breaking her stare down at me.  
Gordon grabbed his hat and gave James a wink before disappearing into the night with her. I could hear her giggling at his words and whatever else he was doing as they left for town.  
Gordon shook his head ever so slightly before sitting back down with his book. I just sat there on the edge of the green velvet couch; still fuming inside.  
A few minutes passed by before James looked up from his book.  
“He will be back you know.”  
My expression must have given me away.  
“I know.”  
“What is bothering you then?”  
“Nothing.”  
With that I crawled back under the covers and plotted revenge against this women whom I could not compete with.  
+  
The next morning I found James still reading his book.  
"Good morning, Miss," he greeted me.  
"Morning, James," I replied, still noticeably miffed from last night.  
I waddled over to the looking glass to wash my face; and I could hardly reach, but upon seeing my own plain face, let out a sigh, "She sure is pretty."  
"No prettier than you will ever be," came James still looking at his book.  
"I bet Gordon really likes her."  
"Little Miss, Gordon really likes all the girls or at least he pretends to. I don't think he really loves her, he just likes the feeling," he tried to explain, "he likes it when girls run their fingers over his hands and tell him he is strong and whisper things in his ear and giggle; things like that."  
"What feeling?" I asked him as I ran my fingers through my own hair to try and fix it before Gordon woke up.  
"Oh, you know, the usual, the warm feeling you get when you see someone beautiful."  
"You mean like the feeling I get when I see Gordon?" My cheeks were red and hot as glowing embers.  
This was the first time James looked up from his book.  
"Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen!" Gordon smirked as he opened the blinds on the train door upon entering.  
I ran past him and under his arms outside the door, hiding my face from him as I did, to hide my embarrassment. What if he had heard me?  
James had lept out of his chair and pushed passed the still bewildered Artie as I ran out the door. I had made it away from the car but he chased after me calling my name. I ran as hard as I could away from him but when he gained up on me, which didn't take him long, I surrendered and he wrapped himself around me and took me to the ground with him.  
"Just where do you think you are running away to, Miss? What do you mean you love Artie?"  
We both lay there panting heavily in a pile.  
"Forget about it! Just please forget about it!" by face was still red and I clutched my fists in anger; anger that I had ever even told him, that my parents were dead, that Artie was too good for me, that I was stupid enough to ever love him, and now that I was in near tears and looking as childlike as ever. He released me from his grip and we got back on out feet; he offered me a hand up, but I declined with a trite, "No, thank you."  
Artemus reached us as we stood there glaring at each other, still out of breath as he now was. "Thank God, Jim," he wheezed. "What was all that about?"  
Jim looked down at me and then back at Artemus. "Nothing, Artie."  
I could tell his friend didn't believe him.  
"Well in the future, could you not have me run across half a field for 'nothing'?" Artemus joked.  
+

“Artie,” Jim sighed, “I think you and I need to have a little talk about Emanda.”

“What about her?” Artie asked, oblivious. “Why did she go bolting out the door. I don’t understand.”

Jim thought carefully about how to break the news to his friend.

“She thinks she’s in-love with you.”

Artie was shocked. “She’s a child!”

“Not how she sees it, I’m afraid. You’re going to have to watch yourself.”

Artemus rushed to defend himself, “Jim, are you insinuating that I would take advantage of a child?”

“No, Artie, not at all. I just mean that she doesn’t need any reason to go liking you more than she already does.” Jim paused, seeing the confused look on his partner’s face. “Try seeing it from her side,” he continued. “We don’t know what kind of life she’s had. With her parents out of the picture, you are her only friend in the whole world. She is in that awkward stage between being a child and a woman. Of course she is ‘in-love’ with you.”

Artemus went from confusion, to defensiveness, and now came to rest at understanding. “You’re right, Jim,” Artie sighed as he spoke. “Maybe I should talk with her.”

Jim thought a moment, his hand reaching over to pick up the book he had been reading the night before. “I was considering doing the very same thing myself.”

“No, please let me. I insist. It will be easier on her from me… I hope,” Artemus pondered, pouring a glass of sherry for his partner and then for himself as he did so. “Wish me luck, Jim;” he said, grabbing his hat off the rack on his way towards the train car door, “and thank you for telling me about this in private.”

Jim looked up from his book. “Anytime.”

+

I could hear the men discussing their plans for the day as I sat outside in the cool morning air and dreamed.  
James was going to go out to look for someone and I didn't know what Gordon was suppose to do, but I had a plan. James wanted Gordon to not leave me alone, but it wouldn't be hard to sneak away.  
I was given some pennies by James when he left. He told me it was to buy something nice for myself. It was the only money I had besides the little bit I still had saved in the pocket of my dirty outfit. That afternoon Gordon took me into town. I hadn't told him of the money James gave me, so he gave me a few more pennies. We passed by the tavern and went to the store. I convinced Gordon to go over to the tavern for a drink and that I would buy my things and then meet him outside. He gave me a few pennies as he left and I waved goodbye.  
Now what was it that the girl last night had that I didn't? Looks. That is what. I needed something to snag Gordon. There is was; a cute little shirt that I could work as a dress.  
"Excuse me," I squeaked to the salesclerk, as I pointed to the deep red, velvet shirt with a matching bow, "I would like that."  
The clerk looked at me shocked, but got it down for me anyway. I had just enough for it and a licorice whip. I stuffed the shirt under mine and then ducked behind the building to slip in on under what I was wearing. It was lumpy, but I didn't think anyone would notice. I felt like a million bucks in it. Surely this would make Gordon realize I wasn't a little girl; I was a woman.  
I met him outside the bar and could smell liquor on his breath. James was going to be gone until tomorrow afternoon, so we headed back to the train car to make dinner.  
After we had finished our bread and soup and I had helped with the dishes, Gordon worked on some sort of thing with chemicals and I slipped into the other room to get ready to try my tricks on him. I really had no idea what I was doing, but I had seen some of the girls in town before. It couldn't be that difficult. I slipped my dirty shirt and pants off to reveal my naked shoulders and legs with the crushed velvet shirt hanging just long enough. I let my hair out of their braids and combed them out with my fingers, producing elegant waves. I had stolen a beet from the kitchen and hurriedly sliced it open to rub over my cheeks in big circles and then glide it over my lips. There. Now I was ready. I was scared, but I was ready. I wanted to show him I was just as good if not better than his prissy Angeline or the girls in town. Shaking all thoughts of worry and self-consciousness off I strode out to the main room with bare feet and a twinkle in my eye. Gordon was looking devastatingly handsome as ever with his white sleeves rolled up and his eyes fixed on his chemicals. He looked up after a while to see me lounging in one of the chairs in what I thought was an appealing position, but I probably just looked rediculous.  
"Where did that come from?" Gordon asked with a shake in his voice.  
"The storekeeper sold it to me."  
"You didn't steal it?"  
"Nope. I wanted to look nice."  
"What did he sell it to you for?"  
"A lady never reveals how much she spent, Gordon."  
"Fair enough, but what did you pay him with?" He looked concern.  
"What do you mean? The usual way. It isn't all that hard really. Any idiot can do it."  
He looked sick enough to pass out on his chemistry equipment, "You better sit down. You don't look so good."  
He looked at me still shocked and I hadn't a clue why. Was he really that upset I had spent the money on some nice new clothes? Maybe he suspected James had also given me some money? I guessed I should have told him.  
"Now how do I look?"  
"You look... very nice… but you better put some more clothes on before you catch a cold." He looked down at the ground as he spoke and hopped of the couch from beside me to grab his coat off the rack and throw it back at me. It was awful nice of him to offer me his coat.  
"Thanks, Artie."  
"Don't mention it."  
Nervously, he fiddled with the glass bottle of green liquid boiling on the counter and then read part of a random book from his shelf of boring technical books before playing around with a magnifying glass on some other bottle of liquid.  
Yes! That was it. I knew it. I was so good at this flirtatious business that I was making the man wild with cravings for me. I walked up behind him to run my fingers down his hip clothed in fine fabrics, much more expensive than I had ever felt. He ignored me.  
"I suppose I should go to bed."  
"I suppose you better."  
"What was that book you were reading earlier?"  
"Shakespeare."  
"Sounds exciting. Read it to me? Please?"  
"Alright," Gordon heaved, "but you stay on your side of the couch."  
Gordon sat down on the bed looking visibly concerned as I traced circles on his arm.  
"What are you doing?" he questioned as he quickly opened a large book.  
"What? You don't like it?"  
"That isn't what I asked you. What are you doing?"  
"So you do like it?"  
He closed the book quite quickly, got up off the couch immediately, and walked out the door. I heard the train car door open and shut. Looking out the windows I saw him go back towards town. I didn't try for Gordon again like that for many years and things were always slightly stressed between us. It was just one of those things people didn't really detect and maybe even Gordon or I forgot about from time to time, but it was still always there. It made me feel like a complete fool.  
+  
The day was hot with summer in full swing. Artemus and I had headed into town for some errands, a practical vacation for him from his seemingly never ending job. So far we had looked over some very fine saddles for sale, as James's had been drowned in a river during one of their latest missions. He was borrowing mine for now, and I was riding with Artie until we could get James a new one. We had also picked up our mail at the post office, although there wasn't much there. There was a bit of a line though, and the fella in front of us was giving us sort of sideways glances. Artie told me he had a bill or two to pay while he was there and that I better wait outside. So, I sat on a barrel outside to wait for him and to admire all the pretty dresses the women wore in that town. The fella that had just been in front of us in line dropped a dark blue letter in the dust while I was out there, but by the time I saw it, he was already quite some ways away. I called out to him, but he didn't hear me. Curious what was inside, I opened it. Just then, Artie came out asking where the man in front of us in line had went.  
“I swear it; I never saw that man before in my life. I just picked up the letter he dropped. He didn’t take it back, so I opened it. That was all. No big deal,” I explained, still holding the opened letter in my grubby paws.  
“Alright. I believe you, but you should also know better than to go around snooping people’s mail,” Artie scolded.  
“It wasn’t any good to him. He just left it there.”  
“But it didn’t do you much good to read it either, now did it?”  
“And I bet you would just love to know, now wouldn’t you?”  
“Well--”  
“You just told me it wasn’t nice to snoop… I bet you’ll never guess.”  
“I don’t care what it said. I don’t care, not one teeny, tiny bit.”  
I wasn’t convinced. ”Good. I will just leave it right here then,” I said, as I left the hand scrawled letter folded back up all nicely on an overturned barrel, “just in case that man sees he’s lost it and comes looking. May I meet you for lunch at the cafe next door at one? I have a few things I want to do in town first.”  
“Sure. That would be fine. You go and have yourself a good time and I’ll see you at one.”  
“At one. It’s a date.”  
I knew just as soon as I turned my back that brown eyed liar would be knuckles deep on that blue enveloped letter. I didn’t care much; it wasn’t a very important letter. At least I didn’t think so.  
+  
“Come and get it!” Shouted Artie from the train car’s kitchen.  
The smell of flavorful steak with salt and pepper potato wedges filled the interior of the car. I hated it. I mean, how was I going to keep getting out of eating? It was almost like Artie was cooking with more frequency purely because I was refusing to eat lately. I had been at it for close to a whole week. I couldn't give up now. This was a new record.  
“I’m not hungry,” I lied as I continued writing in my diary, “but thanks anyways.”  
A firm hand planted on my shoulder as I got up from my chair to go to my bunk. I shrugged to slip it off, but Artie was looking down at me and his words were demanding. “Emanda, eat.”  
I was not in the mood to be having this conversation again. I repeated what I had been saying for nearly two weeks. “I told you. I’m just not hungry today.”  
“You need to tell me what is going on.”  
“Nothing is wrong,” I shot back, “I’m fine.”  
It wasn’t a lie. I was fine. I just didn’t want to eat. I wanted to hear Artie say how light I was if he picked me up and out of danger again. I wanted James’ shirt to be looser on me and give me a tiny, childlike form. I wanted to be thinner so that I could pull off graceful stunts like James. I needed to disappear in the hands of Artie.  
“Well, do as you please tonight,” Artie resigned. “Dinner is out there if you want it.”  
“Thank you, Artie."  
I made for my bunk again with my book in my hand, but Artie stopped me again saying, “And Emanda? You look lovely today.”  
"Thank you."  
He gave me a weak smile and a pat on the shoulder before whistling off to the kitchen. I locked myself in my bunk and I replayed that moment of him smiling at me over and over in my mind whenever I felt like eating. I didn't hear them talking about it, maybe they just didn't notice anymore. Maybe they cared too much to hurt me by saying bad things about it. I didn't know. Days more went by and the same thing happened at dinner every night. I stayed in my room and they always invited me. I thought I was fine. This was good for me, I thought.  
The days turned into weeks and I had kept myself from eating for the most part. One night the same knock happened on my door, “Are you in there?” Mr. West asked me.  
I was sitting on the burgundy carpet floor making a necklace. I got up to let him in, but I felt very frozen, my vision started to blackout from the bottom up like it had earlier. James's voice sounded quieter and I could no longer hear the train going over the tracks. The darkness crept up and up until there was nothing left.  
Mr. West shook on the door handle and demanded I let him in when he heard me hit, but I had fallen and hit the door and my body was pressed hard against it. He shouted for Artie. He picked the lock on the door and gently he pushed it open. I wasn’t out for long, but it was long enough for them to carry me to the couch in the parlor. I woke right up and was just fine, but Mr. West demanded answers of me.  
“That is it Missy, tonight I put my foot down. You are going to sit here with us in the parlor and I am going to watch you drink some juice. You are not allowed to pass out like that again. Do you hear me? Never again.”  
He was very angry with me. It wasn’t the comfort or the pity that I expected of him. It wasn’t the romantic version I had played out in my mind at night.  
“You were very stupid to not eat when I told you to. How are you going to fight like that? What were you thinking?”  
“Leave me alone!” I fought back the tears, “I just wanted to be skinny; beautiful like all the women you and Artie hang around.”  
“James,” Artie stepped in for the first time, “Jim, don’t be so hard on her. I… I think I understand.”  
That was enough for me. I stomped out of the room hoping James felt every bit of my anger and maybe even a little sorry he wasn’t so comforting to me. I slammed the door shut so hard I was afraid the window might break.  
“What was all that about?” Mr. West shouted at his associate from the other side of the wooden door.  
At that Gordon lowered his voice, “I… I need to go talk to her.”  
There was some discussion between them that only came as mumbling to me as I instinctively peered in the looking glass to tidy my appearance before a swift knocking and a quiet voice came to me, “Emanda, it is me. Let me in.”  
He sat down beside me on my bed thinking of exactly what he wanted to say. “I know why you are doing this… but I want you to know that I already find you a very... attractive, young lady. You don’t need to starve yourself to get my attention.”  
Maybe what I was doing was stupid. Maybe James was right.  
“I’m not going to make you eat,” he continued, “but I would enjoy it very much if you would accompany me alone tonight for dinner.”  
“You don’t have to do that.”  
“I would like it very much, M. Can you be ready in 5 minutes?”  
I nodded my head, “Thanks.”  
“You’re welcome. Now, come on. Let’s get on from this sadness. You don’t need it and I don’t either.”  
He ruffled my hair playfully and gave me a small kiss on the cheek.  
This was all something I had wanted for a very long time. I loved Artie and I hoped that maybe he loved me too.  
+  
4 years later.  
"Artie! Don't you get it? I want you! I want you to take me in your arms and leave me shaking under your touch!" I screamed in agony. I didn't mean to be that direct, but these feelings had been building up in me for a torturous amount of years already and he wasn't making it any easier by not understanding all of it.  
"I can't do that Emanda," Artie shouted forcefully, sitting down by my side, "For the love of all things sacred and pure you are 18!"  
"I know I am. What difference does it make?"  
"Now, listen to me. I'm sorry I yelled at you like that. I didn't mean to be angry with you," Artie mended the obvious hurt, "One day you are going to understand why I am saying no and you will be able to thank me."  
I didn't know what to say I had always shown my best side to him and tried to give him his space. Things were going so well and he had been so nice to me. Didn't he want me too? I doubted again that day for the hundredth time if I was good enough, pretty enough for him.  
"I've wanted you since before most people think a girl can want a man and I have continued to feel that way ever since."  
Artemus buried his face in his hands and then pulled his hair with an exasperated sigh. "Why me?" he muttered between his fingers.  
"If not know, when?"  
"When you are a woman."  
"I am a woman."  
"When the world says you are a woman."  
"When will that be?"  
"I don't know," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.  
I still wanted him heart, body, soul and mind. His face was so perfect to me and his voice was like no other person I had ever met. It just melted me to a puddle of giddy coyness. I had imagined his voice night after night whispering in my ear. He had saved me countless times from trouble and we had been there fore each other for years. When I needed a shoulder to cry on he was there. When I needed a friend he was there and I loved him.  
"You aren't making any sense to me! Gordon! I want you, for the sake of all things sane and pleasurable, I want you,” I pleaded as I stood with him in the middle of the train car's living room.  
The emerald green and bright gold yellow curtains were unfluttered by the beginning of fall breeze passing through every window. The air was warm and sweet and invigorating. The colors in Gordon’s eyes shone brighter and my words for him got mulled over and over again in my mind like rocks in the river bed that shown with the same brilliance as his eyes within this very car; glinting like they had been for years.  
“I have wanted you since I was a little girl and I have never stopped wanting you,” I detested, “and I am no longer a little girl!”  
“Emanda,” Gordon began, taking my hand in his with a touch that halted by exasperated breath, “I know you have.”  
“And! Well, what are you going to do about it?” I thoroughly questioned him as I forced his hand off of mine and took a step back as I did so, “So you have known about it? Who could be dumb enough to not know about it? And why would you do something about it now after having not done a single thing since the very beginning?”  
His brown paisley jacket was straightened by his rough, manly hands and his white linen shirt that I so desperately desired to rip off his body was also adjusted before he continued. Following in the same fashion I fixed my hair and pulled down on the hem of my dress with equally hot headed flair.  
“I will tell you exactly why I never did anything about it before,” Gordon began.  
“I’d love to hear your reasoning now,” I retorted, as I sat down on the arm of the yellow sofa to listen to this dream of an explanation.  
He regained his composure and considered his words before exploding, “Because you were no more than a love sick child!”  
“Why should that stop you?”  
“I will tell you why. I have done wrong by people in the past, but I genuinely care about you and I didn’t want to do anything until I knew you were able to handle it. It wasn’t about what was ‘legal’ or ‘sane’ it was about you being okay. Your family was killed and James and I were all you had for a long while. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”  
I was dead silent. This wasn't what I was expecting.  
“As for what I am going to do about it?” Gordon now screamed at me furiously as he jumped and landed with both feet squarely in front of me. "Stand up.”  
“What?”  
"I said 'stand up'.”  
The light poured in the windows and I swallowed my breath mixed with the warm scent of the flowers and grass outside. Sweat gathered on Gordon’s brow and all traces of fear flooded between his expression and mine.  
I gathered myself to my feet before him, just to have him push me back down on the sofa. He then landded on top of me, grabbed me by the jaw, and kissed the air of life out of me. A leg on either side of my hips, he squoze his body deeply into mine. He held me down passionately, savagely, and hungrily. Then he lifted his head off my shoulder and kissed my forehead.  
My world had stopped.  
"What was that?"  
“That was me doing something about it. There is lots of adventure still ahead of us on this train. I see no need to rush to the finish line,” he quipped, “I quite enjoyed kissing you. There is a taste of vanilla taffy about you.”  
And with that he got up, did nothing to tidy his disheveled appearance and returned to reading his book with a wildly sexed up appearance that now matched his soul; shirt unbuttoned, undone belt, sweaty hair falling over his face, and all.  
Well, it sure took him long enough.  
+  
The clock struck 5pm on the mantelpiece. It was an early dinner. The chicken and rice still steamed on the table and the candles were freshly glowing. James had gone out to the tavern for the night and Arty insisted on staying home. I would have gone with James, but I was still too young to be drinking in public according to them, even though I was now 19. Artie and I had not given ourselves over to making love with each other since that time two years ago and once when we kissed after I had thought he had died in a fight James and he got into with some scoundrels. It just hadn't felt right to. I still loved him though and he, ever the clever actor, was hard to read on the subject.  
Gordon had dressed in his usual fancy white shirt with the brown and gold detailed vest with the shiny chocolate ascot and matching jacket and trousers. His regular style was more understated and well cut than West's, but it felt more authentic; comfortable like and royal. It fit his role as an actor quite well.  
They had me dressed in floor length dresses by now, as much as I disliked them at times I did desire the general attention that I got in them. I still wasn't fond of tightly cut or stuffy and unbreathable ones though.  
We properly engaged in dinner at the table and we passed one another the usual compliments on the other's cooking and taste in spices and techniques. I asked him how the book he was reading was going and he inquired if I still enjoyed painting when I had the time. I did. I had been painting him again lately, something I hadn't done for a while. I had been living with them for 5 years now, which was nearly quarter of my life, so I had the time to study both of their faces and mannerisms and ways of speaking, and yet still my heart had agreed with my mind, crazy as it was, that I still enjoyed Artie more than any other man I had ever been with. I just didn't know how to go about talking about it.  
"Em?" Artie looked up at me from his plate and sat down his wine glass that he had been drinking out of more heavily than usual this evening. "Do you... do you still enjoy Shakespeare?"  
"Well, yes, Artie, maybe not as much as you do, but yes."  
"I should like to, with your permission, quote the poetic writer himself this evening."  
This was nothing out of the usual. He often quoted the great masters of times gone by. He lived it, breathed it.  
"Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather, youth like summer brave, age like winter bare: youth is full of sport, age's breath is short, youth is nimble, age is lame: youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold, youth is wild, and age is tame: age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee; O! my Love, my Love is young! Age, I do defy thee. O sweet shepherd, hie thee, for methinks thou stay'st too long."  
"That was real pretty," I wasn't quite sure what he was saying.  
"A toast my dear, for I do think we have proved the good poet wrong." And with that he poured me a drink and we toasted our success.  
Heartily, we enjoyed the rest of our dinner and cleared everything away.  
Thinking of what we could do for the evening I went to fetch him a cigar, he seemed in a good mood, quite proud of himself really. "Come over here and I'll give you a light!" I yelled to him for he was still in the other room. He thanked me from the other room and walked towards the couch I was sitting on to get it. I lit it in my own mouth teasingly, but he pulled it out from between my lips before I could breath it in. "Tsk tsk," he scolded me playfully.  
He sat on the couch beside me and I laid my head on his shoulder, taking his hand in mine. "Artie?" I asked him in a sweet, girlish voice.  
He tilted his head in recognition.  
"Artie, I love you."  
"I love you too," he drug on his cigar.  
"Really?"  
"Really, really."  
"How about them other girls?"  
"Those other girls?" he corrected me before continuing, "I am not interested in those other girls."  
"Are you interested in me?" I plainly asked him.  
He gave it a moment of false consideration for dramatic and nonchalant effect, "Mhmm."  
He snuffed his cigar out on the tray behind me by reaching around me and then leaving his arm there.  
I leaned over to kiss him, but placed one on his cheek instead. He ran a hand through my hair and caressed my jaw.  
"I feel funny around you," I confessed.  
"You can tell me anything, Em," his voice was softer, more tender and sincere than I normally heard from him. "You feel funny, how?"  
"Well," I nervously shifted, "my face feels warm and my stomach hurts and I get scared and nervous easy."  
"Go on."  
"Well, and my breath gets all messed up and I always want to stand up straight and act all perfect and stuff."  
"I'm quite flattered and I like when you do that. I'm not going to say you shouldn't try and impress me, that is part of the magic of being in love with someone. You want to be your best for them. Don't feel like you have to try too hard for me though. I think that everything you have done, you have done just as perfectly as you could and that is good enough for me or any man who you want."  
"I want you."  
Everything happened so quickly as soon as those three words left my lips. We both knew it was happening and we didn't stop ourselves.  
"If that is how you feel about it. This isn't how I imagined asking you, but now is as good a time as any..."  
He couldn't possibly be offering me...  
"Emanda..."  
"Yes...?"  
"Will you marry me...?"  
"I... yes. Yes, Artie, I will. Oh my goodness, thank you!"  
He wrapped me in a warm and tight embrace. We both cried tears of happiness.  
"Even as all my years onstage those were the hardest lines I have ever spoken, m'lady, and believe me I rehearsed them. Over and over again I rehearsed them."  
"So did I, but even with all the imagining and playing pretend I think that real life was so much better than anything I could have ever imagined. I love you so, so much."


End file.
